


cultivating in themselves something

by thingswithwings



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Dirty Talk, Gay Feelings, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, imaginary threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 05:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18888466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: Patrick shrugs with one shoulder. “I just―it’s a nice fantasy. I thought you might like to play with it.”“And the fantasy is . . . ?” David lets his hands roam over Patrick’s sides and back, stroking slowly.“Hot, repressed gay guy comes into the store,” Patrick says, beginning the scene.





	cultivating in themselves something

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to eruthros for giving this a quick once-over! 
> 
> Inspired by a twitter convo I had yesterday with lettered and ICMezzo. This idea burned itself into my brain and wouldn't let go, so I wrote it up today so I could go back to doing other things.

There’s this guy who’s been coming into the store. 

David’s noticed him, because while he may be affianced, he’s not dead, but what’s more interesting, what’s much more interesting, is that he’s noticed Patrick noticing him. Patrick glancing over at the guy a little too often while he shops, his gaze lingering on his ass or his arms, Patrick making a little more eye contact at the register than he normally would. Patrick paying attention to a good-looking guy.

That kind of thing should make David jealous, but it never really has, not up until the whole Ken fiasco when there was a real and tangible possibility of Patrick being with someone else. But when Patrick thought Ted was hot, or when Patrick raised his eyebrows and got stuttery around the perpetually shirtless fieldhand guy out at Miller Farm, on those occasions when David’s seen him look at other men, David’s always felt something aching, tender, but very far away from jealousy. Patrick doesn’t do it that often, or―what David assumes is more likely―Patrick doesn’t _allow_ himself to do it often, but when he does, it’s beautiful to watch. 

Patrick letting himself be gay is beautiful to watch. 

It makes David feel protective, thinking about how many stolen glances and raised eyebrows and harmless flirtations Patrick is owed by a world that prevented him from knowing this basic thing about himself for his first thirty years. It’s part of what had moved him to tell Patrick to go on a date with Ken in the first place: he wants so much more of that, for Patrick, for Patrick to get to experience it as much as possible.

So, far from hating it, or feeling jealous or annoyed by it, David actually loves it, loves those moments when Patrick feels confident enough to indulge himself and look at someone he actually finds attractive, as opposed to the people he was taught he should find attractive. He doesn’t think Patrick even has much of a type, outside of, just, men: butch muscly guys grab his attention, probably because of all the sports he played as a kid, but he’s also caught Patrick gazing at soft chubby guys with cute makeup, and that skinny little delicate watercolourist from Elmdale; Patrick had noticed neat, clean-shaven, well-dressed city types, but then David also saw him looking at that lumberjacky trans guy with the gorgeous soft beard who brings them fresh eggs to sell in the spring. David thinks maybe that Patrick’s still discovering it, even years after figuring himself out, still discovering all the people he can like, and love, and respond to.

The guy who’s been coming in has actually gotten Patrick’s attention a few times, which isn’t surprising given his, well, everything: broad smile, quick expressive hands, green eyes, gorgeous hair, long eyelashes. He’s a little short, like Patrick is, soft around the face, and he always brings back his tote bag to reuse, which is the kind of thing Patrick would find charming. If David were still single, he would definitely have asked him out. Or, well. Thought about asking him out really obsessively and never done it, probably, but the point stands.

The bell dings as the guy leaves, and Patrick turns to David and widens his eyes and spreads his hands, as if to say, _hot guys, am I right?_ , and David loves it to pieces, loves this part best of all, when Patrick not only lets himself look but also lets David see him looking. They’d talked about the shirtless farmhand for ten minutes once in the car, and Patrick had blushed happily the whole time, and David would’ve been content to live in that moment forever.

“You know, before you came along, there was a real shortage of hot gay guys in this town, and now we seem to be positively awash in them,” David comments, smiling.

Patrick chuckles, putting his hands in his pockets and coming over to where David is standing. “I am very pleased to be counted among the number of gay guys you find hot,” he says, “but _that_ guy told me he’s getting a present for a girl he’s just started dating.”

David furrows his brow. “Really?” 

Patrick shrugs. “Maybe he’s bi, or pan.”

Pursing his lips, David hums disagreement. “I’ve really got a good sense for these things.”

“David, you didn’t know _I_ was gay.” Patrick’s right up near him now, hands now out of his pockets, shoulders back. Too close for casual conversation, ready to be touched. Patrick does this sometimes, puts himself in David’s space and waits for David to move. David always, always does.

Wrapping his arms around his shoulders, David smiles. “That’s because I really wanted you to be. It clouded my judgment.”

“Ah.” Patrick’s arms come up to wrap around his waist in turn.

You can’t tell someone’s queer by looking at them, much less what kind of queer; god knows David’s surprised enough people himself by _not_ being gay. But he really had gotten a vibe.

“Maybe he’s in denial,” David says, offhandedly, and Patrick’s facial expression gets complicated. David purses his lips, wondering what he’s thinking about. “What about you, did you get a vibe?”

“Yeah,” Patrick admits. “But I’m not sure I’m good at getting vibes yet.” 

“It’s a learned skill.”

Patrick kisses him, gently, briefly. “Why do you care?” he asks. “Looking for more repressed country boys to take on their first big gay adventure?”

“Ew, I’m not a _theme park_ ,” David objects. “I’ve only ever done that with you.”

Pulling back, Patrick raises an eyebrow at him. 

“I mean, _sure_ , there were other men who’d never been with men before,” David continues, feeling somewhat pressed by Patrick’s disbelieving gaze. “Some of them―okay, yes, some of them were repressed. Or just wanted a thrill. I mean. Like, you have a point, but. But none of them were _you_.”

Patrick’s expression softens, and he kisses David again. “I know,” he says, after. “I didn’t mean to say you were a theme park.”

Shrugging, David starts to move away. “I mean. I kind of was?”

“I never felt that way, with you,” Patrick says, suddenly, seriously, capturing his hand before he can step away. 

David catches his breath, because while they’d both been there, stumbling together through Patrick’s first gay kiss, Patrick’s first gay sexual experience, Patrick’s first time going down on a man, Patrick’s first time getting fucked, they don’t talk about it that way very much. 

“You always made me feel like it was about me, and you, and both of us, what we wanted. Not like . . . a sexual adventure. I never thought of it that way.”

“Hmm,” David says, relieved. He doesn’t have the words for the feeling, so he leans in and kisses Patrick instead. “So you’re saying I’m boring in bed.”

Patrick laughs, kisses David’s captive hand, then lets it go and heads back over to the cash register. “Yeah, sure, I definitely hate having sex with you,” he laughs, then coughs when customers choose that moment to walk in. David smirks.

*

That night, as they’re getting ready for bed, David’s not thinking about the conversation they had earlier in the day; he’s brushing his teeth and thinking that it’s time to restock the SLS-free locally made baking soda toothpastes at the store, and that he really owes his Mom dinner sometime this week, and that he hopes Patrick can figure out how to fix the receipt printer because it was really fucking expensive for what it is and he doesn’t want to dip into the emergency funds to buy a new one.

Coming up behind him, Patrick wraps his arms around David’s waist and stands up on his tip-toes to put his chin over David’s shoulder. David relaxes back into it, dipping his knees to make the position easier for Patrick and resting his head briefly against Patrick’s shoulder, even though it makes him dribble a bit of toothpaste down his chin.

“You tired?” Patrick asks, kissing his neck sexily. Then David has to bend forward and spit into the sink, since he’s smiling and smiling is not a great way to keep toothpaste in your mouth. Patrick’s hand travels up his shoulder to cup the base of his neck, while he’s bent over, then slides back down his arm while he stands up again. 

“You do that on purpose,” David accuses him, running some water into a cup, rinsing, spitting again, drying his face.

“Make you happy?” Patrick asks, innocently. David kisses him; Patrick already brushed his teeth so it’s okay, both of them even, fresh and clean. David loves toothpaste kissing.

“I could be happier,” he murmurs, against Patrick’s soft lips, his soft little tidy mouth. 

“So, you’re not tired,” Patrick says. 

David runs his hand down Patrick’s chest, over his belly, reaching into his pajamas and finding to his surprise that he’s already half-hard, which is unusual for him without at least a little physical contact. 

“You’ve been getting yourself ready for me?” David breathes, because he kind of likes and hates the idea of Patrick touching himself in preparation, when David’s not watching. 

But no, Patrick flushes a little and shakes his head. “Only in the sense of . . . uh. I was thinking about what we talked about today, at the store.”

“About―about back when we were first dating?” David hazards, because he remembers talking about that, or was he just thinking about that, about when Patrick had been new to gay sex?

“Um. About the―repressed gay guy. The imaginary repressed gay guy. Who’s new to gay sex.”

“Okay,” David says, slowly. He takes his hand out of Patrick’s pants. He’s not sure where this is going, but he feels like he might not like it.

“For the record, I am not asking you for an open relationship or a threesome,” Patrick says, slowly and clearly, hands on David’s shoulders, meeting David’s eyes, using his sincere face. David breathes out; it’s good to have a fiancé, a Patrick, who knows what he’s afraid of and makes sure to keep those things away, like moths. Patrick shrugs with one shoulder. “I just―it’s a nice fantasy. I thought you might like to play with it.”

“And the fantasy is . . . ?” David lets his hands roam over Patrick’s sides and back, stroking slowly. 

“Hot, repressed guy comes into the store,” Patrick says, beginning the scene. They do this sometimes, roleplay, dirty talk, and it’s always best when Patrick does the storytelling. He has a real flair for _narrative_ , while David tends to dwell on the details. Together they’ve come up with some really blisteringly hot scenarios, hockey players sweaty and fumbling in the locker room, strangers in a seedy bar fucking in the bathroom, that one time when Patrick pretended to be an electrician after David convinced him not to do any more actual work with the electrical wiring at the store. David had been a bored kept man, waiting for his sugar daddy to come home and fucking the tradespeople; that’d been a good one. 

David nods, pushing Patrick back towards the bed. “Uh-huh,” he says, encouraging him. Patrick grins, almost laughing. “Tell me more.”

“He sees us together,” Patrick adds. “Kissing, or just, your hand on my back. And he wants it, for the first time ever. He’s never known he wanted it but suddenly it’s the only thing he wants.”

“Both of us,” David clarifies, because he’d assumed this was going to go in a pretend-we’re-strangers direction, where one of them would be the hot repressed guy and the other one would be a bored retail clerk. 

“Yeah. If that’s okay,” Patrick says, taking a breath. “I don’t mean it for real,” he adds, with emphasis.

“It’s okay,” David says. “It’s good.” He thinks he wouldn’t have felt that way, even a few months ago, but since Patrick proposed he’s been gradually figuring out that Patrick doesn’t need anyone else. That Patrick thinks he’s . . . enough, as he is, by himself. It’s a hard thought to get to settle, but he’s had some time with it. “So this guy sees us, thinks we’re hot together, gets overwhelmed with lust.”

“Yeah, he’s so turned on and doesn’t know what to do with it,” Patrick says, unbuttoning David’s pajama top and pushing it off his shoulders. “He’s never felt that way before. He’s imagining what we do together, what we look like naked together.”

“Fuck,” David says, moving to get Patrick’s pajamas off, too, pressing a kiss to his throat. He would be mortified in real life, but in the fantasy it’s the hottest thing, someone watching him and Patrick fuck. Seeing what they do together, what they are together, getting turned on by it. “We’re the fantasy.”

“We’re―yeah, we are. We’re his fantasy.”

They’re hastily getting rid of the rest of their pajamas, leaving things crumpled on the floor, kissing between the words. David’s getting hard but when he pushes off Patrick’s pajama bottoms, god, god, Patrick is _so_ hard already, without even being touched. 

“So we get him back here somehow, is that it?” David asks, pushing Patrick down onto the bed and crawling up over him.

“Well, you notice a _vibe_ ,” Patrick says, tartly, and David laughs and kisses his thigh on his way up the bed. “Then fill in the part where we’re both really suave and good at flirting and ask him here for a drink to welcome him to the town.”

“Mmm-hmm,” David manages, just barely not laughing. He’s above Patrick now, looking down into his sweet, teasing, beautiful face. “We’re kind of skeevy in this fantasy.”

“Suave, David, suave,” Patrick repeats, and David kisses him. Patrick surges up to meet him, mouth wet and open, greedy, demanding. 

“Who kisses him first?” David asks afterwards, breathless. He’s deeply interested in the answer to that question: which of them would be the one to make the move, to confront the imaginary guy with his first gay kiss. 

“I do,” Patrick breathes. “I kiss him, really softly, like this.” He kisses David differently, then, mostly closed-mouthed, soft-lipped, slow and tender. David remembers this kiss from over two years ago, from the first time he gave this kiss to Patrick in Patrick’s car.

“That’s, that’s really hot to watch,” David says, only stuttering a little. There’s a lump in his throat, so he swallows. “I like watching you do that.”

“But you wanna play too,” Patrick says. 

“Yeah. I wanna kiss him where you kissed him,” David says. Patrick blinks, and suddenly he caresses the side of David’s face. David closes his eyes and pushes into the touch. Patrick’s voice, when he speaks again, is soft.

“So I turn him around, pass him over to you.”

“How’s he feeling about all of this?” David asks, opening his eyes, because he hasn’t really got a handle on the hot repressed guy’s emotional arc yet.

“He’s―he’s excited, and scared, and so turned on, David, he pours himself into his kiss with you.”

“His hands are tight on my shoulders, gripping me tight,” David says. Patrick nods. They kiss again, and again, those messy wet kisses again, Patrick’s tongue pushing forcefully, confidently, into David’s mouth.

Their hands are running all over each other, thighs and stomach and pecs, and David moves down, starts kissing Patrick’s neck, just where he likes it, down near the hollow of his throat. “Tell me more,” he says, softly. “Tell me more, Patrick.”

He feels Patrick swallow, feels Patrick’s thighs shift beneath him, feels Patrick’s dick hard and leaking against his belly. There’s a pause. David kisses Patrick’s throat, kisses it and kisses it, his hands coming up so he can lick his thumbs and rub them over Patrick’s nipples. 

“He―yeah, god―he kisses you, and then I kiss you and we make him watch, he’s just watching us so hungry. Watching what we have together, how much we want each other. And then he, he, oh. He asks us what we want him to do.”

“Yeah?” David asks, between slow kisses to Patrick’s collarbones, his shoulders, his pecs. “What do we say?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick admits, breathlessly, as David grazes his teeth over a nipple. “What did you always say, to those kinds of men?”

David pulls back a little, balancing on his hip, and pretends to think. “I mean, with straight boys, you just tell them to suck your cock. Straight boys love that.”

Patrick laughs, then surges up against David, pushing him over onto his back, getting on top of him.

“Do they?” Patrick asks. Then he’s sliding down the bed, taking David’s cock in his mouth. 

“Oh, yeah, they’re really into it,” David manages.

Patrick’s mouth is slow, and eager, and _practiced_ , tongue rubbing up against the underside, right near the head, then moving down to take more, lips tight and mouth wet, then back up again to suck hard on the head, combining deep suction with deft movement in a way that’s getting David there way, way too quickly. He groans, lets himself have another few seconds, then a few more, then finally pulls Patrick’s head up and off, encourages Patrick back up the bed.

“But for repressed gay boys, you need a different tactic,” he pants. Patrick kisses him, pushing down against him, their cocks rubbing together. Between kisses, David reaches for the lube in the drawer and gets them both wet, slick. 

“So you’d tell him, what, take his time, whatever he wants is okay . . . ?”

David frowns, because this is veering uncomfortably close to what he’d actually told Patrick when they started having sex, and David doesn’t want to act that out, exactly. He doesn’t think that’s what Patrick’s going for either.

“What would you tell him?” David tries. “What would you say, if his eyes are all hungry and his mouth is wet and red and he’s breathing hard, held between us, what would you say?”

Patrick’s eyes close shut, tight. “I’d tell him that we’re gonna give him what he needs. What he’s been craving. We’re gonna teach him what he needs.” 

David kisses him, stroking both of their cocks together. God, he really wants to come, but he wants to see how this plays out even more, so he forces himself to slow down, to soothe his other hand over Patrick’s hip, to slow them both down.

“We’re gonna take him,” David murmurs, because it’s a fantasy, Patrick’s fantasy, and he has a handle on the shape of it now. “We’re gonna fuck him until he forgets that he ever thought he was straight.”

“Oh, fuck, David, _yes_ ―” Patrick surges up against his hand.

“We’re gonna get him between us and make him beg for us to fuck him,” David continues, voice low, hand slow, not giving Patrick the friction he’s looking for. Patrick groans and David wants to be so tender, so careful, in giving this to Patrick, wants to be so gentle. His lips are next to Patrick’s ear. “We’re gonna show him how much he loves it when a man fucks him raw.”

“Jesus, Jesus, David, please,” Patrick pants. 

“Show him,” David says, caught up in it now. “Show me what you’d do for him. Show me what you’d give him.”

“I’d―I’d,” Patrick takes a deep breath, then another, closes his eyes tight, then opens them. “Come here.” He pulls on David’s shoulder, then pushes till he’s rolling over, up onto his hands and knees.

“Yeah. This is what you’d do for him,” David agrees. “You’d show him this.”

“I’d rim him till he _screamed_ ,” Patrick grits out.

David briefly worries that Patrick is going to do that to him right now, because as much as he loves it when Patrick eats him out, he is not really sure they have time for that at this precise moment. To his relief, Patrick grabs more lube and then fingers David instead, rough and quick. David groans and presses back against it. It’s exactly what he needs. He’s not the imaginary anal-play-virgin, after all.

“You’d lick his hole?” David asks. “Eat him out?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, fingers curling inside of David, like a tongue, pressing against his prostate. “Get my tongue in his ass and. And make him scream.”

“And what am I doing?” David asks, can’t help asking. Maybe he shouldn’t; maybe he’s been written out of the fantasy at this point? But he can’t help but wonder, can’t help but be curious if Patrick has a place there for him.

“You’re fucking his mouth,” Patrick replies, immediately. “You’re easing your cock in and out of his mouth, and his eyes are closed, he’s sloppy and drooling and he loves it, he loves sucking your cock, David, he loves taking us both at the same time.”

“Ungh, yes,” David says, and gets a hand on his still-slick cock, thinking about it, about that position. “You would look up from rimming him and see me, see me fucking him at the other end. It’d be so hot, Patrick, watching you do that to someone else, knowing what it feels like, what your mouth feels like. You’re so good at it. You’d make him love it.”

Patrick’s fingers stop moving inside of him for a second, and he feels Patrick’s breath, hot against his back, and then Patrick’s pulling out. 

“I’d show him,” Patrick says. “I’d teach him. How good it can be. How good he can feel.”

“Yeah,” David says, hearing the wet sounds as Patrick slicks up behind him. “Yeah, yeah, show me how good you can make it. Show me how fucking good it is. Patrick. Show me.”

Patrick buries himself in David’s ass, not going slow at all, not like you’d do it with someone actually new to the process. Instead, it’s how Patrick knows David likes it, a long hard unhesitating fuck inside, a little rough, all the way in on one slow stroke, filling him up suddenly and completely. David breathes out and closes his eyes and makes himself relax, relax, relax and take it, god, he loves it so much, loves how Patrick just gives it to him, loves the feeling of being so full. 

“Does he―does he like it,” David manages, after a minute, Patrick shifting slowly inside him. “Does he like it, does he like getting fucked.”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, “he, he fucking loves it. He, god, he’s so hard, he’s hard from my tongue in his ass and your cock in his mouth, and he loves it, he loves it, David―” 

Patrick’s rhythm gets started, then, his hips starting to move, his fingernails digging down into David’s hips and waist. David groans and pushes back, spreads his legs wider, trying to move his knee past the bunched-up blanket to give Patrick the access he needs.

“He loves having you on top of him, having me holding his head,” David breathes. “Fuck. He’s taking us both. He’s moaning, it feels so good, moaning around my cock.”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, short and out of breath, “yeah, David, yes, god, yes―” He fucks David harder, and David strokes his own cock harder in response, speeding up with Patrick’s rhythm, following Patrick’s lead. 

“Tell me,” David says, again. God he’s so fucking close, feels like he’s been close for hours. “Tell me the rest. Patrick. Tell me.”

“He’s,” Patrick says, hips stuttering, then starting again, fingertips digging deep into David’s ass, his hips. He takes a high, pained breath. “He’s, _fuck_. He’s gonna realize. He’s gonna realize how much he loves it. He can’t, he can’t live―without it, without this, without _men_ , all he wants is men, all he’s ever wanted, he wants to fuck men and get fucked by men for the rest of his goddamn life, it’s all he―all he wants, just to do this, just to be this, to have this, fucked two ways at once and he’s never felt so fucking _right_ ―”

“Yes, fuck, Patrick, yes,” David groans, and he feels Patrick shaking behind him, trembling his way through his orgasm like his entire body is entirely out of his control, and that’s all it takes for David to lose it too, to tumble forward into the fantasy, into the inside-out feeling of coming really fucking hard, spilling over his hand as Patrick makes broken, nonsensical, helpless noises, his fingers scrabbling at David’s hips, his skin hot and slick with sweat where they’re pressed together.

“Jesus,” Patrick breathes, what feels like a minute or two later. David’s blinking spots out of his eyes. Patrick’s hand rubs up and down David’s side. “Holy fuck.”

“Yeah,” David says, slowly. He lets go of a shuddering breath, and it ends on a laugh. “Fuck.”

Patrick huffs out a laugh behind him, and his hand rests between David’s shoulderblades. “That was―David.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“I’m just gonna,” Patrick says.

“Yeah, okay.” 

Patrick pulls out of him, slowly; David winces a little at the messy noise of it, the feeling of semen running slowly down his leg. 

“Can you―”

“Yup,” Patrick is already up and padding across the apartment, fetching a wet cloth from the bathroom. David tries to reposition so he doesn’t get any of it on the bed. Ugh, they should’ve put down a towel.

“I hope you’d use a condom if you were having sex with a stranger,” David says, as Patrick comes back. Patrick’s hand is resting against the small of his back and Patrick’s wiping the warm cloth over David’s dick, then running it up David’s thigh to his ass, catching all the mess and cleaning him up.

“I’m not going to be having sex with a stranger,” Patrick says, firmly, the same way he firmly swats at moths. David smiles, then turns over, angling himself away from the wet spot beneath him.

“No?” he says. Patrick kneels his way onto the bed, then comes down to lie on top of David, kissing his mouth.

“No. And you love it when I fuck you bare.” 

David shivers, kisses him again. It’s new, since they got engaged, something he never had before. Or at least . . . not advisedly, or consensually. He likes the metaphor of it, how it makes him feel something about the way they touch, about their intimacy, about their plans for their lives together. He likes the mess, too, in a way, Patrick’s come absorbed into his body.

“I do love it,” David whispers. Patrick rests his head against David’s chest. David kisses his forehead, then pets his hair, thinking.

They’ve done plenty of scenes before, and they were always―they always meant _something_ , something about Patrick wishing he’d been able to kiss boys on his hockey team, or something about David wishing he had found Patrick years ago, been able to appreciate someone like Patrick years ago. But none of them had ever been this intense, and David’s not sure how to handle it. It’d clearly been especially intense for Patrick. It’s the kind of observation he used to keep strictly to himself, back in the old days, the kind of thing you noticed but politely never mentioned to your sex partner.

“This was. Um. This was really intense for you,” David says, voice hoarse. Against him, Patrick nods, but he doesn’t speak.

“Did you like it? Do you feel good about it?” David swallows. “It’s okay if you feel―more than one way about it.” Patrick had gotten hard, Patrick had groaned and shaken and come, but David knows none of that means you only feel that one way. 

“I liked it,” Patrick says, his hand coming up to play with David’s chest hair. “David, I―it’s hard to even talk about how much I loved what we just did.”

David keeps petting him, his hair, his neck, his shoulders. After a long minute, Patrick speaks again.

“I meant it, when I said we’re the fantasy,” he says. “I couldn’t have―this is my happy ending. I fell in love, I came out, I’m getting married. It’s good.”

David frowns at the rhythm of the sentence. “But,” he prompts.

Twisting his head to look up at him, Patrick sighs softly. “There’s no but. It’s just still hard sometimes, when I think back on how I used to be. What I lost. You help me work through that, every day. You make me glad I went through what I did, that it brought me here.”

David squeezes his arms around Patrick in a tight hug. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says. “How’d I find you.”

“Magic,” Patrick breathes. “And the 1990 Business Corporations Act, Chapter B.16. Both of those.” He lifts himself up so he can reach David’s mouth for a hot, slow kiss. 

“Well,” David says, when Patrick pulls back. He smoothes his hands over Patrick’s chest. “Well, that was a very sexy way of working through your emotions, so, thanks for that.” Patrick giggles, his chest moving against David’s.

“God, I got so fucking hot when I started thinking about . . . that whole scenario.”

David smiles, shifts his hips so Patrick’s weight is more comfortable. He likes this, likes how open Patrick is sometimes after sex. “Was it being the experienced one in the situation that did it for you? Or just, like, us being seen from outside?” David wants to say _seen from outside by someone like you used to be_ , but he holds that back. 

“Both of those. All of that. And remembering the fantasies I used to have back before we ever, uh. Had sex.” 

“Ohhh,” David says, slowly, nodding. Patrick looks a little embarrassed, so David adds, “You thought I’d split into two people and fuck you hard from both ends at once?”

Patrick frowns seriously. “Well, I didn’t know what queer men did together, so, it was a possibility.”

Laughing, David kisses the corner of his mouth. “I’ve got good news for you, I’ve just been saving that move.” 

Patrick grins against David’s neck, then kisses him there, in that spot below his jaw that Patrick’s claimed for his own, the spot where his mouth always lands when they hold each other. “Thank you for doing this with me,” Patrick says, softly.

David feels tender again, protective, like he does whenever Patrick discovers another man he thinks is cute, whenever his sexuality grows to take up just a little more space in the world.

“I loved it too,” David says, as honestly as he knows how. “I loved doing this with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Gertrude Stein's "[Miss Furr and Miss Skeene](https://biblioklept.org/2019/03/09/read-miss-furr-and-miss-skeene-a-fiction-by-gertrude-stein/)," because why not do something pretentious with a lil PWP title:
> 
> "Helen Furr and Georgine Skeene were regularly living where very many were living and cultivating in themselves something. Helen Furr and Georgine Skeene were living very regularly then, being very regular then in being gay then. They did then learn many ways to be gay and they were then being gay being quite regular in being gay, being gay and they were learning little things, little things in ways of being gay, they were very regular then, they were learning very many little things in ways of being gay, they were being gay and using these little things they were learning to have to be gay with regularly gay with then and they were gay the same amount they had been gay."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] cultivating in themselves something](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889303) by [RevolutionaryJo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RevolutionaryJo/pseuds/RevolutionaryJo)




End file.
